


A Rustling in the Trees

by Niramtre



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BUT there is a plot!!!, Bee is a BAMF, Canon Compliant, Elves, F/M, Half-Elves, I promise, M/M, Modern Era, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Some Elves never sailed, Very self-indulgent fic I'll be honest, legolas is a cutie, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niramtre/pseuds/Niramtre
Summary: There wasn't much to complain about, really. Two close friends, a job she enjoyed, and a degree she could find a great job with if only she knew what she wanted.In the meantime, however, she had other things to deal with. Her friends seemed to be hiding things from her, she had traumatic experiences to deal with as well as meddling strangers, and oh, haven't you heard? Your whole life is a lie! Sorry about that.---In which some Elves never sailed West, and Bee is just having a really hard time right now.
Relationships: Elladan (Tolkien)/Original Character(s), Legolas Greenleaf/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

It was cold outside. September had given way to October and while the days were manageable, in the evenings the temperature dropped significantly. Shivering, Bee pulled her coat tighter around herself when she joined her friend out on the balcony. He was sitting on the broad railing, feet covered in woollen socks waving gently in the open air, back turned to her. A steaming mug of tea sat next to him.

  
She took a moment to consider him. The jumper he wore hid the strong muscles of his back and shoulders she knew where there, and a few tufts of light blond hair, nearly platinum, stuck out from underneath his hat. Her own hair had nothing on his, she knew. His was sleek and glossy, and while she’d never touched any of it, she imagined it to feel soft and silky. Her own resembled more of a lion’s mane, also blonde but darker, curly in parts, straight in others, and falling wildly just past her shoulders. It was very thick, often commented on by hair dressers in surprise and admiration. She didn’t mind, it kept her nice and warm on nights like this, and it covered the ears that had been the subject of occasional bullying when she was younger. They were flat on top, having a slight point on the outer edge before curving down into a round shell, almost as if someone had cut the tips off in a horizontal slice. She thought it must run in the family, though she would never know for sure.

  
She took a few steps forward, stopping a few inches next to him. “Hey,” she greeted.

  
He turned his head slightly, gifted her a smile. “Hello.”

  
“Hope you’re not planning on jumping?” she joked, indicating his choice of seat.

  
“Just comfortable,” he answered. He was a free spirit, meant for nature rather than the depressing grey of cities. Sitting on the balcony’s edge, she knew, gave him a sense of freedom, as if he could ignore the confines of having a house that was now behind him, out of sight.

  
Bee folded her forearms on the railing, bending over a little. She hummed in content. It was a peaceful evening, she found. The cold burned her nose when she inhaled, and when she exhaled, a plume of hot air hit the cold.

  
She took the tea to sip at. She knew he wouldn’t mind. The hot liquid burned down her throat in a loving caress, warming her from the inside out. It was a bit too milky for her. She put the mug back in its spot.

  
“I’m going to make a late dinner, have you eaten?” she asks. He shook his head. She straightened and rested a hand on his wrist for a moment. His skin was cold. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” And she went inside.

  
He hadn’t looked at her once, she realised.

* * *

Bee’s life had been a fairly uninteresting one, and she was perfectly happy with that. Raised by her aunt on her Dad’s side, she had a happy childhood; she was fed, well cared for, and had a few friends. Having always had interest in the history of the world, she found at a young age that she wanted to learn as much as she could. Thus, she applied for the Archaeology and Anthropology course when she was finishing her A-Levels, and went straight to studying more at the Oxford University, eagerly soaking up every bit of information. There she met Dan and Logan, who had grown up together, and who seemed prodigies in their own right. They appeared to know everything their professor told them already, often questioning him, which resulted in some interesting discussions. She had often thought they could easily go into teaching themselves, but every time she suggested it, they wrinkled their noses and said no thank you, they have no interest in being in the spotlight like that. Which is fair enough, Bee supposed. Having knowledge didn’t always mean one would be good at giving it to others.

  
The two men were like fire and ice. Dan, with his long, black hair, booming laugh and cheesy jokes; and Logan, who was all quiet smiles, thoughtful remarks and cosy jumpers.  
They hung out at Logan’s place so often, that they may as well have lived there, which was why one evening when they were drunk (or Bee was, in any case), they suggested actually moving in and cutting rent costs. Bee thought this was a bloody fantastic idea, perhaps magnified by the alcohol in her bloodstream based on the enthusiastic reaction she was later told she had had, and only two weeks later saw Dan and Bee moving their stuff into the two spare rooms of Logan’s family apartment. Apparently his Dad was quite rich and so no rent had to be paid at all, which was why Bee could focus on finding her way in life with just a part time job at the café. It worked great for all around, really.

  
And so it was that Sunday evening once again found the three of them in the living room, bellies full and wine glasses in hand. Dan was sitting in front of the telly with remote in hand, setting up Netflix, while Logan and Bee argued on what to watch. Bee wanted a Harry Potter marathon, because it was October and it was tradition, but Logan said it’s only early October and they still have the whole month, and they have watched it so many times already, can’t they settle for something new?

  
“OK!” Dan yelled, interrupting them. He stood up and dropped himself between the pair. “That’s it, I choose. And I choose… The Nightmare Before Christmas! It’s done, it’s settled, thank you for listening and now be quiet.”

  
“But that’s a Christmas movie!” Bee protested.

“It’s also a Halloween movie, and as you pointed out, it is October,” countered Logan.

“Yes, but –“ She was shut up by a finger to her lips. Dan had done the same to Logan, who looked down cross eyed in bemusement.

“Oh my god, you argue like a married couple,” he sighed. Bee rolled her eyes and Dan released them, pressing ‘play’ on the film. “Now be quiet and enjoy the magnificent art. I helped make this, you know.”

“This film came out in ninety-three. You were only just born. Stop bragging,” Bee sighed.

“Yes, well, my Dad worked on it and brought me on set, therefore I helped,” Dan sniffed. Logan coughed.

“Do you think it’s because of this exposure so early in life that you’re so goth?” Bee mused aloud, raking in her flatmate’s outfit. Today it consisted of jeans torn at the knee, and a shirt of some metal band she didn’t know.

Dan waved a finger at her. “Now don’t try and psychoanalyse me, young lady, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, I am not goth, I just like black clothes.”

“And piercings,” she added. “And the hair, my god, the hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Daniel demanded. He turned to the man next to him, “Logan, tell her there’s nothing wrong with my hair!”

Logan just shook his head. “I am not getting anywhere near this discussion.”

Dan looked at him down his nose. “Oh, shall we change the subject to your hair then, hm? How would you like that!”

Logan shrugged and pulled his feet up on the couch, resting his hand on a bare ankle. “Feel free, there’s nothing wrong with my hair. It’s perfectly fashionable. I keep up with the times.”

“Not that we’d know with how you always hide it under the beanie,” Dan muttered under his breath. Logan glared at him and he threw up his hands. “Ok, ok, no mentioning anyone’s hair, got it.”

Bee, feeling as if she’d missed something, decided to interject before Logan’s glare turned into something more. “Cool, now that we’re all respecting each other’s boundaries here, shall we continue?” She gestured to the film that had been playing. She missed her favourite song, damn it.


	2. Chapter 2

With the end credits rolling, Bee stood up to get her coat and gestured at Dan in invitation. They went out to the balcony and she pulled a cigarette from her pack, offering it to her flatmate. He smiled at her in thanks.

“You are both disgusting,” Logan announced from inside the flat while she lit her fag.

“Here for a good time, not a long time,” she called back. She heard muttering that sounded suspiciously like _well I am_ but decided to ignore it. Dan snorted.

“So,” he said, taking a long drag, “I’ve barely seen you these past few days. Anything exciting?”

Bee shook her head. “Nah, just had a few late shifts and Tommie is struggling a bit, so I was asked to do some extra lessons. He’s fine really, I just needed to adjust my way of teaching a bit for him to get it. His parents keep calling him thick, but really, he just needs things a bit different from how they are used to things being done. I keep trying to tell them that maybe he’s neurodivergent, I’m guessing Asperger’s, and they should take him to be diagnosed, but they refuse to listen.” She sighed deeply. “You know, the whole _my kid is normal and how dare you imply otherwise_ , as if it’s the greatest insult to them as parents when there’s nothing wrong with it! What’s wrong is that they won’t give them the help he needs because they’re so afraid to seem ‘bad parents’ that they don’t realise that that’s what they are being right now!”

Dan studied her silently for a moment, the cigarette between his fingers burning up in the cool night air. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

Bee deflated. “Maybe. I guess.” She looked out over the skyline of her city. Her beautiful Oxford, with its old buildings and lush greenery. Well, lush for a city anyway. “I’m just frustrated, is all.” She puffed on her cig.

Dan took a step closer to her, his warmth pressing comfortably at her side. “Well, if you asked for my advice – which I know you didn’t – I’d say the best you can do is keep your learning materials the way they are so that at least _you_ can help him as much as possible. And give the parents some time, they probably have no experience with these things and only just met you, it will be hard for them to trust what you say. Don’t give up.” He nudged her with a smile. She gave him a smile back.

“Thanks, Dan. I appreciate it. You say the wisest things sometimes.”

He dramatically threw out an arm, as if to greet an audience. “When you live as long as I have –“

She pushed his shoulder in amusement, though of course he didn’t budge, the gym addict that he is. “You’re only four months older than I am.”

“Well, I am an older brother also. That comes with wisdom.”

“By five minutes!”

“Even so,” he said haughtily. She shook her head. “Speaking of which, Rowan is considering coming this way in the near future. Would that be OK?”

“Of course! When is he coming?” She loved Rowan. He was more quiet and bookish than Dan, but the two together got up to all sorts of trouble. It was immensely enjoyable to watch, especially when Bee was not the victim of their antics.

Logan came to join them then, wrinkling his nose and waving at the lingering smoke, despite the things having burned out already. “What’s this I hear about Rowan?”

“He’ll be here in a few weeks, will probably stay for Halloween,” Dan said in answer to both their questions. “So you might want to get your costumes sorted soon, you know what he’s like.”

Logan groaned. “Spare me. What does he want me to dress as now?”

Dan grinned devilishly. “You really don’t want to know.”

* * *

“So if you look here,” Bee pointed at a passage, “you can see how Tolkien was inspired by God and the Bible, see? Aragorn would be Jesus, that is obvious, the Elves are the Angels, and… anything else you noticed?”

Tommie bit his lip, looking down in concentration. “Well, isn’t Gandalf also Jesus, and Saruman Satan?” he asked in a shy voice.

Bee gave him an encouraging smile. “Can you explain why you think so?”

He fiddled with his pen, thinking this through. “Well, Saruman, like Satan, was once good, right? But he was tempted by power, and fell for it. He tries to tempt Gandalf in turn and almost succeeds, just like when Jesus went into the desert. Also Gandalf dies and comes back.”

“Very good!” she praised. She looked up at the clock. She was nearly fifteen minutes over the agreed time already, and Mrs Watson was a punctual kind of woman. “Oh, damn – I mean – would you look at the time! Tommie, keep up the good work, and I’ll see you Friday, alright?”

“OK,” he nodded. He didn’t look up from the doodles he’d been drawing on his notebook. She ruffled his hair and gathered her things. She went to say goodbye to Tommie’s mother, who was in the living room.

She looked up from her magazine. It seemed to be the financial kind, though Bee wasn’t sure. “Ah, you’re leaving?”

“Yes. Sorry for being a bit late, we got really into our discussion,” Bee smiled.

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing, keep up the good work. He’s been really improving, you know, both at school and at home.” Mrs Watson seemed relieved at this.

Bee beamed at the compliment. “Thank you, Mrs Watson! Will do. See you Friday.” And she was out the door.

* * *

With the rest of the afternoon off, she decided to enjoy the clear autumn day and bundled up in a warm jumper, leather jacket, scarf and gloves. Opening the garage door, she gazed at her beautiful baby. Her pride and joy, the Triumph Bonneville. A gift from Logan, together with lessons from Dan and gear from Rowan, for her birthday three years ago. They would never let her thank them, and while she was hugely embarrassed at receiving such ridiculously expensive gifts, she couldn’t help but immediately get attached to it. Logan assured it was really no problem, and reminded her they all came from old money (much as they tried to act like they didn’t), and well, that was that.

“Oh darling, how I’ve missed you,” she breathed. The shiny black bike seemed to return the sentiment, twinkling in the sunlight hitting it just so. Slowly she walked forwards, her hands stretched out to lovingly stroke the sweeping curves, its soft brown leather, and cold metal. Barely containing her excitement, she fastened her helmet and climbed on. Revving the bike twice to check all was in order, she nodded in satisfaction and shot off like a bullet.

 _This,_ she thought, _this is what life is made for._ The city passed her by in a blur of old buildings and people, and gave way fast for the red, gold and brown of the surrounding nature. She breathed in what little air she could through the helmet, laughing in exhilaration. She felt like she was flying. Free as a bird, riding the wind. She fought the urge to spread her arms wide, to feel the pressure on it as a hawk would. Before too long she slowed to a stop, parking her bike next to a few cars whose owners seemed to have had the same idea as Bee.

Taking off her helmet and stuffing it in her backpack, she marched into the breath taking woods. The smell of rotting leaves hit her nose and she smiled. Truly, autumn was the superior season. Taking in the beautiful colours, she wished she’d brought her sketch book and pencils. She was not an artist by any means, but it didn’t matter. The act of putting a pencil to paper always felt soothing, and she thought anyone would agree. After half an hour of hiking, she found a tree with wide spread branches. She stopped and stared it.

Would it be terribly inappropriate to - ?

 _What the hell,_ she decided. Let’s do it. So she shouldered her backpack firmly, moved to stand under the lowest hanging branch, and jumped. Her finger tips just barely reached it, but after a moment’s scrabbling and nearly falling, she got enough of a grip that she could heave herself up in a fluid movement. Once she regained her footing, she jumped from one branch to the next, easily climbing higher and balancing delicately on each. She flailed about once or twice, wildly flapping her arms as if that would actually do something, but managed to stay upright. And thank goodness for that too, she thought, as she was nearly at the top of the tree already.

Settling down on the highest sturdy branch, she sighed happily and looked out at the view. She’d picked a good tree, it was higher than most and gave her an amazing sight over the tops of the trees in Wychwood. She loved going to this area. It might not be the sea, but it was quiet and a good place to think. She felt just as much at home here as anywhere else, possibly more. Definitely more than in the city, but well, the city held more opportunities for her, and so that’s where she lived.

She let one leg dangle off the tree branch, leaning back against the trunk. She took out a cigarette from her coat pocket and put it between her lips, raising the lighter. The tree croaked around her, a breeze she didn’t feel shuffling its leaves. She frowned and turned off the flame, not wanting to have it open in case the wind blew her from her position. The tree settled down and she chuckled.

“Not a big fan of tobacco, huh,” she said, pressing her hand against the bark. She could almost feel the tree’s agreement. Well then. She pushed the fag back in its box and put it away. She was pretty sure the tree seemed happier for it.

* * *

Logan was on the phone, speaking passionately. He didn’t quite yell, so Bee couldn’t hear what it was about, but it wasn’t difficult to guess. Logan’s father was one of the higher-ups of an environmental organisation, and by proxy, so was Logan. Bee suspected it was Greenpeace, as it seemed certainly big enough, but had never actually had any confirmation. It was a big deal at any rate, and based on the frustration she could feel even through the balcony door, something bad had happened. She hadn’t seen him this angry since… well, ever.

She glanced at Dan, who looked worried. At her questioning look, he just shrugged. He didn’t know either.

Bee went back to strumming her guitar. She hadn’t used it in a while, so it needed some love before she could play again. It sounded about right, she thought, so she played a few notes.

Logan stormed back in, his expression thunderous. The door slammed shut behind him.

“So… It didn’t go well?” Dan commented. A phone crashed against the wall, falling with a broken screen to the ground. Bee was impressed that only the screen was damaged.

“No, it didn’t go well,” Logan gritted out. “That absolute fucking maniac of a president –”

Well. This was quite serious indeed. Logan _never_ swore. Bee found it gave her a funny feeling. Out of character as it might seem, but it gave Logan a certain edge she wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

Logan breathed in noisily through his nose, pinching the skin between his eyes. “We’re dealing with it.” He dropped himself on the sofa, feet resting on Dan’s lap. Dan raised an eyebrow at this, but didn’t comment.

“You know we’re happy to help if we can,” Bee said.

“I appreciate that. But this is for me to handle.”

Bee just shrugged. This was nothing new. Logan, much as she loved him, was pretty closed-off, especially when it came to his job. One would be hard-pressed to know what he’s thinking without him telling.

She smirked. This gave her an idea.

“Well, we can at least try to cheer you up then?” she said innocently. Logan squinted at her.

“You have that look on your face. I don’t like that look on your face, it means I will end up hugely embarrassed.”

Bee cleared her throat.

“ _No one knows what it’s like,_ ” she started singing. Dan straightened, glee written plain on his face.

“ _To be the bad man,_ ” he joined in.

“ _To be the sad man_ ,” Bee continued.

“ _Behind blue eyes,”_ they sang together. Logan groaned and grabbed a book from the floor, opening it on a random page to cover his face.

“Please don’t,” he begged.

_“No one knows what it’s like, to be hated, to be fated –“_

_“To telling only lies!”_

Bee started playing along on her guitar, her fingers finding the strings easily. “ _But my dreams, they aren’t as empty, as my conscience seems to be…_ ”

It was hard not to giggle at Logan’s expression. He was trying hard to hide his smile but didn’t quite manage it, so he sunk deeper into the cushions and raised the book to cover his face more.

“ _I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That’s never free_

_No one knows what it’s like  
To feel these feelings  
Like I do  
And I blame you  
No one bites back as hard  
On their anger  
None of my pain and woe  
Can show through_

_But my dreams, they aren’t as empty  
As my conscience seems to be  
I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That’s never freeeee”_

On the last word, Bee and Dan exaggerated the notes, raising from low to high and back. Bee snickered.

Her hands flew over the strings in the excitable part of the song, bopping her head to the tune. A bright smile had appeared on her face, one that Dan (and Logan, secretly) mirrored.

And then –

“ _When my fist clenches, crack it open,_ ” Logan jumped in loudly. He lowered his book. His eyes danced with humour. “ _Before I use it and lose my cool._ ” He sprang from the couch, pointed at Bee.

“ _When I smile, give me some bad news  
Before I laugh and act like a fool”_

“Sing it baby!” Dan yelled. He was clapping out a rhythm, slapping his palms to each other, to the table, to the armrest of the sofa.

_“And if I swallow anything evil  
Put your finger down my throat  
And if I shiver, please give me a blanket  
Keep me warm, let me wear your coaaaaaaat”_

Dan stood up then, threw his arm around Logan, and together the two finished with hands over their hearts:

“ _No one knows what it’s like  
To be the bad man  
To be the sad man  
Behind blue eyes!”_

They might not have solved the issue, but Logan was smiling again, so Bee considered it a job well done anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

The scratching sound of her pen against the notebook brought Bee comfort. She’d filled several pages already in the last hour and she was rather proud of it.

The day was peaceful. Dan was off at work in the museum and Logan was typing away on his laptop at the dinner table. Outside, the rain fell against the window in a soothing _pat pat pat_. Bee loved that sound. She snuggled deeper into the sofa cushions and pulled up the throw blanket a bit more. She loved autumn.

A scraping of a chair against the floor made her look up. Logan closed his laptop and looked at her. “Tea?” he offered.

Bee nodded. “Thank you.”

Mugs prepared, Logan joined her on the other side of the couch, pulling a leg up and under himself. They sipped the hot liquid in content silence for a few minutes, while Bee continued writing in her notebook.

“Are you still working on Dido?” Logan asked after watching her pen move for a while.

“No, I finished that one a while ago. I’m doing Romulus and Remus now.” She re-read the last page. Did it sound natural?

“Are you going for Romulus killing Remus, one of Romulus’ supporters killing Remus, or Remus living out his days in the city he founded close to Rome?”

Bee hummed in thought. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m not a fan of the fratricide, I will say, even if it’s the most common story. I don’t know why people were such a big fan of killing their family in those stories.”

“It’s purely for the drama, in most cases it didn’t actually happen,” Logan assured her.

Bee sighed and shut her notebook. “Maybe I’ll just make something up. Nobody is going to read it anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s not accurate. May as well have some fun.” She grinned up at him.

He twisted to face her better. The new position had her foot resting against his thigh. “Why not?”

Her brow furrowed. “Why not what?”

“Why wouldn’t anyone read it? You’ve done, what, seven stories so far?”

“Eight.”

“Eight stories so far. You’ve done a lot of research, they’re as accurate as you can make them, and they’re informative. You could publish them.” Logan looked at her expectantly.

Bee was at a loss for words. “But…” She didn’t know where she was going with that sentence. Logan knew it, too.

“Come on, do you actually have a reason _not_ to publish?”

“They’re really not that good. And I wrote them with kids in mind – who would really be interested?”

“Children, perhaps?” Logan rolled his eyes. “You were into history when you were young, were you not? Why do you assume other children aren’t interested?”

Bee supposed he got a point. “I guess…”

Logan smiled, encouragement shining in his words. “Think about it. Really.”

Bee gave in. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But no promises!”

* * *

Before anyone knew it, Rowan had arrived and the last day of October came around. Bee was waiting in the living room, bouncing excitedly on her toes. She was dressed as a pirate, with the long billowing sleeves of her blouse falling over her hands. She could hear Dan and Rowan in Dan’s room, putting on their costumes, and complete silence from Logan’s. He had been very morose these last few days, but then he’s never really liked Halloween. He did like to indulge his friends though, so he put up with it. Barely.

“Come on, guys! It’s time to go!” she called out. The door to Dan’s room opened and the twins stepped out. They looked strikingly alike, with their big grey eyes, strong jawlines, black hair and, currently, smug grins. The only difference was that Dan had his nose pierced and wore his hair long, while Rowan’s shorter hair framed his face in a style similar to Leo DiCaprio in the nineties – a resemblance Rowan vehemently denied.

They were wearing robes of some sort, with intricate detailing on the sleeves and around the neckline. Dan’s hair had a few small braids starting at his temple, revealing his ears. His pointy ears, as he always had with Halloween. He liked to dress up as elves, fairies, and any other kind of species that allowed him to wear these ears. On one memorable occasion, he was a Vulcan, and absolutely _nailed it._ You’d think he was a method actor or something.

Bee remembered the first time she saw the ears and exclaimed in surprise. She couldn’t be blamed, these were fantastic quality, nothing like the cheap stuff most people bought. When she asked, Dan just shrugged and said he was really into RPG as a teenager and bought some good ones, which he kept to this day.

She noticed Rowan sporting the same ones, which was a surprise to her. She had never seen him on Halloween before, so she didn’t know if he had the same hobby as his brother or if it was just a spare pair. In any case, they looked fantastic, and she told them so.

“So, who are you meant to be?”

Rowan spread his arms, the wide sleeves coming down to his hips. “Isn’t it obvious? The famous twins Elrohir and Elladan, of course!”

Bee snorted. “You’re such nerds. They weren’t even in the movies, how famous can they be?”

“ _Excuse me!_ ” Dan balked.

Bee waved it away. “I mean no offense, you know my opinion on the lack of the twins in the films. I’m just saying, not many people will recognise you because of it.”

Rowan just shrugged, clearly done with this conversation already, and went to knock on Logan’s door. “Come on, Logan, it’s time to go!”

“I’m not going!” came the muffled reply. The three glanced at each other, before Dan made the decision and pushed the door open. And there he was, in all his glory: Logan, sitting on the bed, pouting with his arms over his ribs. He was dressed in a green tunic and leggings with no shoes, and a green hat with feather in place of his beanie on his head. A few blond strands stuck out from underneath, falling over his eyebrows. He glared at them when they entered, and Bee couldn’t help it. She giggled.

“Why, Peter,” she gasped, “don’t you look handsome!” His expression deepened into a full on glower, and she threw up her hands. “Hey, it’s a compliment! You look great, Logan, don’t be embarrassed.”

“I look like a child!” He gestured at his clothes. “Why did you do this to me, Rowan?”

“Well, I think it looks good on you. Reminds me of good times, you know?”

Logan looked up then, and did a double take at the twins. He raised his head to look them in the eye. “Really?” he said sarcastically.

Dan smirked. “Really,” he confirmed.

“Good times indeed,” Logan muttered, and with a sigh he stood up. “Alright then, let’s go, before I change my mind. Let me just find some boots, this costume didn’t come with any shoes.” The annoyed tone in his voice made Bee giggle again, but she was smart enough to hide it this time.

Shortly after, they arrived at the party. The music was booming, the alcohol smell strong and people in all sorts of costumes were jumping around. Bee thought she even spotted someone in an avocado costume. Ah, Halloween.

They entered and went straight to the bar. Dan ordered shots for everyone and doled them out.

“To getting drunk and making mistakes!” He raised his shot in salute and downed it in one. They all followed with cheers. The alcohol burned down Bee’s throat and she grimaced. God, she hated tequila.

A voice next to hear shook her out of it. “Perhaps not too drunk, hmm?” purred Dan. “Don’t want any repeats of last year.”

Bee groaned. “Oh god, you know about that?”

Dan laughed good heartedly, and threw an arm around her shoulder. “My dear, I was right behind you. It was hard to miss.”

She could feel a flush starting. “Well, next time you can stop me then,” she said, refusing to let Dan embarrass her. It’s true, last year she found herself with a few too many shots in her system. While she didn’t remember much of the evening, she did recall having a cigarette outside and trying to seduce Logan when he came to find her. It’s a testament to how strong their friendship was that it was forgiven and, well, not forgotten, but they could laugh about it with minimal embarrassment, which Bee thought was probably better than forgetting.

“Stop you from what?” Rowan asked.

“Nothing,” Dan and Bee said in unison, and Bee gave him an innocent smile. Logan squinted at them from behind the twin, but said nothing. “Let’s dance,” said Dan, and followed up with moving to the dance floor, dragging Bee behind him.

She gave over to the music, moving to the beat and closing her eyes to fall into it with a smile. She lost count of her drinks quickly, all that existed was the beat of the music and the bodies around her. She danced with Dan, and Rowan, and even Logan for a bit, though he mostly stayed at the bar like the moody bastard he was. When she felt hands on her hips, she turned around, thinking it was one of her friends, but a guy she didn’t know stared at her with a drunken smile.

“You’re a sexy pirate,” he slurred at her. He stared at her chest, were the blouse cut low and tied with a string. She gave him a quick smile.

“Thank you, I like your costume too,” she said politely, though she couldn’t tell what he was supposed to be. She removed his hands from her hips and turned around to walk back into the crowd, but he followed her. Annoyed, she looked over her shoulder to see him right behind her, and she stopped to face him. “I’m not interested, in case you didn’t understand the first time,” she informed him.

“Aw, come on babe, surely you’re just playing?” he cooed, trying to touch her again. She slapped his hand and glared at him.

“Leave me be,” she said, and looked around to see if she could spot a familiar face. She was starting to feel uncomfortable and while she was perfectly capable of handling herself, she didn’t want to make a scene.

The guy still didn’t seem to get the hint though, and fell in step next to her again when she walked back to the bar. “Good idea,” he commented on the direction she’d taken, “let me buy you a drink.”

“God help me,” she sighed, exasperated. “Look, dude, if you don’t stop this I’ll do something you’ll regret.”

He looked confused, the alcohol glazing over his eyes. “Don’t you mean something that _you’ll_ regret?”

“No.” She stared him down, trying to intimidate him, but it only seemed to spur him on more.

“I could never regret anything to do with you,” he said, trying to sound seductive and failing spectacularly. Before she knew it, he’d pressed his lips to her. She squawked and pushed him away.

“Who do you think you are!” When he tried to reach for her again, she’d had enough. She brought up her knee to kick him between the legs, grabbed his hair and slammed his nose into the bar. He choked off a groan and brought his hands to his face, coming away with blood.

“You bitch!” he said incredulously. “You broke my nose!”

“I did warn you,” Bee smiled sweetly. He reared up again, ready to slap her, when a hand grabbed his wrist.

“I’d stop, if I were you,” came Logan’s voice calmly. “Just leave now and we won’t have to call security.” The guy turned around, his eyes wide as saucers when seeing Logan. Bee didn’t blame her. He looked dangerous, despite the ridiculous outfit. His face looked calm, but Bee saw the barely controlled anger under the mask, the muscle jumping in his neck, the tight grip on the guy’s wrist. She was pretty sure that would leave bruises.

The guy squeaked and nodded, running away as soon as Logan released him. Bee gave him a jaunty wave. Good riddance.

She heaved a big sigh and turned around to the bar, signalling the barman and ordering two gin and tonics. She handed one to Logan.

“Well done,” he commented. “That looked painful.”

She smiled. She was pretty proud of it, if she was honest. “Thanks! Your lessons are paying off, apparently.”

Logan studied her for a moment, his bright blue eyes catching hers. She swallowed. She didn’t like looking into his eyes; it felt too much like falling into a well. They held too much, too many secrets and questions she didn’t want to think about.

“Are you OK?” he asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

She nodded quickly. “Yep. Yeah. I’m fine, he didn’t do much. Just tried to kiss me, but, well, you saw how that went,” she rambled.

“Indeed,” Logan said, amused. Bee took a sip from her gin to hide her blush, though, with all the alcohol she’d consumed, it would probably stay all evening.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked to change the subject. She blinked drowsily at him.

“Not as much as you, apparently,” he smiled. She rolled her eyes at that. “But yes, it’s surprisingly enjoyable.”

Bee nodded. “Good! Great! Hey, where are the twins?” She scanned the room but didn’t spot them. Although – was that Rowan, in the corner? He seemed to be talking to some people, gesturing wildly with his beer bottle.

“Rowan is over there –“ Logan pointed, and yup, she was right, “- and last I checked, Dan was on his way to the toilets with some new boy toy.”

“Ah, young love,” Bee sighed. Logan snorted. “Do you want to get some fresh air?”

He gave her a look. “You’re going to be having a cigarette, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“There’s not much ‘fresh’ about that air then. But fine, I’ll come, if only to protect you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He shuddered. “ _Please_ don’t call me that ever again.”

Bee threw her head back and laughed.

* * *

The next morning, she woke to a pounding headache. She groaned. Sweet baby Jesus, how much had she had to drink?

She heaved herself up and wrapped a robe around her shoulders. She needed breakfast, stat. Pushing the door open, she saw Dan sleeping on the couch. She yawned. “Morning.”

A crash followed and before she could blink, a blond head disappeared quickly into a bedroom. She blinked and looked confusedly at Dan, who sluggishly blinked back at her. He’d taken off his trousers sometime during the night, the robe still covering most of his legs, and his hair was all over the place. The ears were still there, she noted.

“What’s up with him?” she asked, nodding her head in the direction of Logan’s bedroom. He shrugged and looked at her with wide eyes and a sheepish smile that clearly said, _hell if I know_.

She shook her head, tightened the robe around her and walked to the kitchen where she put on the kettle. Tea. Tea will fix anything, she thought. The bedroom door opened again and Logan walked back out, dressed in sweats and, of course, the grey beanie. “Morning,” she greeted him, and prepared three mugs. “Tea?”

Logan took a seat at the kitchen island. “Yes, please.”

He was avoiding looking at her, but Bee was too hungover to wonder about that. She poured the tea and milk, slid a mug over to him and did the same for Dan’s mug, adding an inappropriate amount of sugar. “Dan, tea!”

He sauntered over to them and sat down next to Logan. “Morning, everyone!” he greeted them cheerily. Bee winced.

“Sssh!” she shushed, pinching the skin between her eyes. She needed some pain killers, too.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you hungover?” Dan yelled. She slapped him and rifled through a drawer, coming up triumphantly with a box of paracetamol. She popped two in her hand and went back to her tea, blowing on it until it was cool enough to take the pills with.

“How are you not hungover?” she moaned. “You had just as much to drink as I did!”

Logan shrugged. “We just handle it better than you do.” He still wasn’t looking at her. He seemed nervous.

They drunk their tea in silence, and the paracetamol started doing its job. She looked at Logan curiously, who seemed very interested in his tea. He was sitting in a weird position again, with his legs pulled up on the stool in a position that seemed uncomfortable to her. A soft cough made her look away and she saw Dan staring at her, raising an eyebrow and looking back at Logan.

What did he – oh. Hold on a moment. The two were on the couch, in state of undress, and Logan ran when she walked in. Did they - ?

How very interesting. Very interesting indeed. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it, she had to admit, but it wasn’t her business so she pushed away the tendril of discomfort in her stomach. She didn’t want to think about that now anyway.

“Well,” she said, putting her empty mug down, “I’m going to have a shower, because I _fucking_ stink. See you in a bit!” And with that she abandoned the two, feeling very satisfied with how she handled the situation. They could probably do with some privacy to talk things over.

Half an hour later and feeling incredibly refreshed, she left her room in a cloud of sweet jasmine smelling steam and wearing her work uniform. Rowan had woken up too, and the three of them were munching away at toast and talking.

“You’re leaving?” Rowan asked when he spotted her.

“Yep, got a shift in twenty minutes. I’ll see you boys tonight, lasagne ok?” She shouldered her bag and put on her shoes. At the sounds of affirmation, she waved at them with her keys jangling and left the flat.

The shift was uneventful for most of the morning. It being a Sunday, few people left for work and instead seemed to be sleeping through their Halloween induced hangover. Oh, how envious she was. Fortunately she was working with Isabela, a Spanish student who did love to chat, so time would fly by anyway.

“So,” Isabela started, looking at the bags under Bee’s eyes with a grin, “rough night?”

Bee groaned. “Don’t remind me. I always think I can drink those boys under the table and yet it never works. They’re not even a little bit hungover, it’s not fair!”

Isa looked impressed. “I’ve seen you drink. You could drink anyone under the table.”

“Not them, apparently,” Bee muttered. She fingered the necklace on her neck distractedly. It was a simple silver pendant, shaped like what she thinks was probably a Hindi or Arabic letter. She never did look it up, afraid of what it might mean, of it maybe meaning nothing and only chosen for its prettiness. She didn’t think she could stomach that. It was the only thing she had left of her mother.

She never knew her parents. She knew her Dad had apparently been a bit of a dick and an alcoholic to boot, and got himself killed in a bar fight shortly after she was born. Classic. Her Mum never knew how to deal with that, and gave up when Bee was just two years old, and disappeared. Having no other family, she was put in the care of her Dad’s sister, who made it very clear that she did not approve of her brother’s actions, family or not, and that under no circumstance should Bee blame herself for what happened. She will admit, this was difficult. Was she not enough for her parents to be happy, and stay alive?

But this was a rabbit hole she didn’t want to fall in right now, so she shook her head to rid herself of these thoughts and focused on cleaning the counter.

The bell above the door sounded. “Good morning! How can I help you?” Bee greeted automatically. She put the cloth back on top of the coffee machine and wiped her hands on her apron before looking up at the customer with a smile.

The smile froze on her lips at the sight of him. His green eyes caught hers, and she seemed lost in them. She knew this man, somehow, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. She knew his golden hair, kept in a bun at the back of his head. His straight, aristocratic nose and the shape of his mouth, curving down in a frown. Thoughts whirled through her head, sorting through the memories as if her mind were a filing cabinet, trying desperately to come up with the right memory, because this was important, _he_ was important, she just knew it.

She didn’t realise she was staring until Isabela subtly nudged her, under the pretence of preparing jugs for frothing the milk in. She blinked and focused, the smile still on her face changing into an awkward one. The man raised an eyebrow.

“Hi, sorry, yes. What will it be today?” she stuttered.

“I’ll have a coffee, black, and a brownie if you have one.” His voice was deep and rough. He sounded a bit like one of those overly muscled actors in a film full of testosterone, the ones with explosions and bad plots. She nodded enthusiastically.

“Yep, latte and brownie, coming right up!” While Isabella set to making the coffee, Bee grabbed the tongs and a small plate to slide the brownie on. With both items finished, she put them on the counter for the man. “There you go, enjoy!”

“Thank you,” he says and looks at her expectantly. When it becomes clear she doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, he tells her, “I still need to pay.”

Bee felt her cheeks grow hot. Isabela let out a loud snort behind her, trying and failing to cover her mouth with her hand. “Right. It’s, er – ” she checked the till, “ – four pounds and thirty pence, please.”

He held out his card to indicate his preferred way of payment (which, thank _God_ , Bee didn’t think she could count out any cash right now), and tapped it to the machine with a beep.

“Thank you,” his eyes flicked to her name tag, “Beatrice.”

“Bee,” she corrected him automatically, and blushed again when he caught her gaze again. “I prefer Bee.”

“Nice to meet you, then, Bee,” he said with a hint of a smile. “My name is Finn.” And with a curt nod, he grabbed his black coffee and brownie, and took a seat at the window.

“Well,” Isa drawled, “he certainly made an impression.”

“Oh, shut it, I’m so embarrassed!” Bee covered her eyes with her hands. “I need a cigarette now, if you don’t mind.” Isabella nodded and waved her away.

With a sigh, Bee found herself out on the corner of the street, taking a deep drag from her cigarette to soothe her nerves. _What just happened_. She knew it wasn’t just how handsome the guy was, she’s served plenty good looking people before. There was something about him, and she just couldn’t put her finger on it. It frustrated her to no end.

She checked her phone and found a message from Dan, sent nearly an hour ago. _Any clue if we have more flour?_

_Am I too late in replying, did you manage? In any case I don’t think so, why?_

_Rowan decided to bake brownies._

_Oh god I’m done with brownies for today, I think._

_???? What happened._

_Well…_ It sounded silly now, looking back. But then her phone rang, so she had to pick up.

“What happened,” Dan demanded.

“Oh please, you’re being a drama queen. I just had a _very_ hot customer and I made an absolute fool of myself, that’s all.” She waved in the air, the cigarette between her fingers leaving a half circle of smoke. “No biggie, come on.” She didn’t want to explain the real reason for her feeling out of sorts, that it was much more than just the man’s looks. Let her figure it out herself, first.

“Well, well, well,” Dan drawled, “I do hope you got his number?”

Bee snorted. “I don’t even know if he’s single. He wasn’t flirting or anything. Did give me his name though. Finn.”

“How cute is this ‘Finn’?”

“Cute,” she said firmly. “Like, ten out of ten. Long blond hair, green eyes, rough around the edges, you know the kind.”

Dan was silent for a moment. “Finn, you say?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason. Hey, I gotta go buy that flour. Keep me updated on the cute guy!”

“O –“ the call ended, “ – K?”

She stared at her phone. That was weird. She finished her cigarette and crushed it under the toe of her boot, pulling her coat tighter around her and shivering. Walking back into the café, she gave Isabela a quick wave and disappeared into the employee kitchen. The golden haired man had gone.

“Very mysterious,” Isabela said when Bee joined her again. “He got a phone call and left immediately. What do you think, is he a spy of some sort?”

“You have an overactive imagination,” Bee said.

“Me? Never!”

“You told me you believe in mermaids just the other day,” Bee reminded her. Isabela made a noise.

“I didn’t say I _believe_ in them, just that we know very little about the ocean and they very well _could be_ real.”

“What’s next, unicorns? Elves?” Bee mused. Her colleague pouted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a bit late!! Been back to work after a furlough so didn't have time unfortunately.
> 
> I know this is a bit of a slowburn but I promise you guys the truth will out soon! Ish. I just love slow burns, what can I say...

When Bee came home with a pounding headache from her last customer who demanded that her gluten-free coffee was not, in fact, gluten-free, and she wanted a refund or she’d complain to the manager, she found the living room in disarray. The furniture was shoved to the walls, leaving a wide open space in the middle. She groaned. She really wasn’t in the mood for this now. Before she could say anything however, the door was slammed shut behind her and someone jumped her.

She heaved an internal sigh and immediately thrust her elbow in the midriff of her attacker behind her. It didn’t deter him, instead he circled her wrists and enclosed her in a tight grip from behind. She drove her heel into his foot, making him grunt and loosen his grip on her. She used this to her advantage, breaking free and twirling around him, launching herself on his shoulders by using his arms, and breaking off his airpipe with her thighs. It said a lot for the strength of her attacker that he didn’t go down despite her weight. He grabbed at her thighs, but she had her ankles hooked firmly.

“Sexy,” whistled Dan. Bee jumped off and threw her hair over her shoulder.

“That was rather the point,” she said arrogantly. She looked back at Logan and reached out to right his beanie, but he batted her away and did it himself. Spreading her hands innocently, she backed off. “But honestly guys, I don’t have time for this today, nor the energy. I’ve had a long day and I’m meant to be cooking.”

“Rowan’s got it covered.” Dan pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the kitchen, where Rowan stood in front of the stove and waved a wooden spoon in acknowledgement without turning away from the bubbling pot.

“I’ve got it covered!”

“See, he’s got it covered,” nodded Dan. Bee wasn’t entirely sure if she trusted Rowan’s cooking, but it seemed she didn’t get much of a choice.

She turned back to Logan, who was still trying to right his beanie. “What’s all this for?” she gestured around the room.

“We thought you could do with some more training.”

Bee bristled. “I’m sorry, have I not proven on Halloween, and again just now, that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself?”

“You don’t know how to work with weapons,” Logan pointed out. “What if somebody comes at you with a knife?”

“Then I’ll run away very fast.”

He put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Bee, please. We would all feel much better knowing you’d be safe out there by yourself.”

“I’ve been fine for twenty-seven years,” she rebutted, annoyance and headache growing. “Unless there is any new danger I’m not aware of, I think you’re being a bit over protective and also patronising.” Logan, Dan and Rowan shared a look, but she missed it. “Oh lookie here, a damsel in distress, we must save her for we are Men!” she continued. “Well, I’m done, you have trained me extensively already, it has helped me in more situations than I care to admit, and I thank you. But I’m not in the mood for it now.” With that, she stomped off to her bedroom. She could hear Rowan mutter “what just happened?” just before she slammed the door, and instantly felt guilty.

She knew she went off at them and that they had good intentions, but it just all seemed a bit _much_. They’d been pushing her more and more lately, and that in addition to the stranger from the café she couldn’t seem to forget, and her increasing dreams she could never remember, she was feeling very overwhelmed. She started tugging at her necklace again, a gesture that always calmed her down.

She didn’t know why she’d been feeling so out of sorts lately. She was perfectly fine up until last summer, when –

Well. It didn’t bear thinking about. In any case, it was then that she started having these dreams, these flashes that she _knew_ were memories, if only she could remember when she woke up! They had made her skittish, and distrustful of people. She even found herself eyeing her friends every now and then, which made her sick to think about and always ended in an internal stern talking to. She knew they had secrets, but then, didn’t everyone? There were few people she trusted, and turning on her friends for no reason would not work in her favour.

It was with this in mind that she collected herself and went back out there. The furniture was already back in place, which surprised her. She hadn’t heard a thing.

The three men stood huddled together, looking up when she stepped out the door. They looked at her in silence.

“I, uh,” she started. Cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I overreacted. I haven’t been sleeping well.” She held her head high and stared them in the face. Apologies had never been her strong suit, and damn her if she was going to show it.

Rowan was the first to talk. “Apology accepted.” He smiled warmly at her. “Care for some stew?”

She gave him a tentative smile back. “Yes, please.”

She joined them at the table, where Dan pressed his hand on her shoulder for a second, before taking his own seat. Logan sat down next to her, once again with his legs pulled up and crossed on the seat, and watched Rowan ladle stew into some bowls.

“Are you alright?” he asked Bee softly, out of earshot of the others.

She gave him a tight smile, avoiding his eyes for she knew she could never lie while looking into them. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trouble sleeping, as I said. I’ll figure something out.”

“Bee.”

The tone of his voice forced her to look up, and immediately got caught by the depths of the ocean, swirling as if preparing for a storm. She swallowed. “Just some dreams. I can’t remember them so they can’t be important.” If that was a lie, she was lying to herself too, but at least she got away with it. Those eyes looked as if they’d seen more than Bee could ever imagine.

Logan’s brow furrowed, however. “Dreams?” He sounded worried.

Bee managed to break away and shrugged, looking down at the bowl Rowan had placed before her. “As I said, I can’t remember them. Just an overactive imagination with not enough stimulation, I imagine.”

Before Logan could respond, Dan interrupted: “Bee, your birthday is in a few weeks! How do you want to celebrate?”

Rowan put down the last bowl and took a seat. It smelled heavenly, Bee must admit. She saw pork and parsnips, lots of parsley. Rowan must have spent ages in the kitchen, it seemed the kind of stew that simmered all afternoon. She took a bite and made a pleasant humming sound at the flavour. This was really good! She chewed thoughtfully, giving Dan a humming noise to indicate she was considering his question.

“We could always do karaoke,” Dan suggested.

“Hm, maybe,” she said, swallowing. “Or, if you wanna do something fun, why don’t we go to the beach or something for a day?”

“It’s the middle of November, Bee,” Logan said, “it will be much too cold.”

“In the summer you claim it’s much too hot!” Bee exclaimed. “I’m starting to think you’re all just scared of water or something.”

“We are not!” Dan said indignantly. “We just have sensitive skin and wouldn’t like to burn, nor would I like to freeze. You’re just asking to go in the wrong seasons, my dear.” Bee huffed and dragged some bread through the broth, soaking it in. She wanted to argue, but knew it was pointless. She’d just have to go by herself, as usual. She was due for a visit to her aunt anyway. Maybe after her birthday, she would go.

* * *

That evening, Bee heard murmured voices coming from Logan’s bedroom. She had said goodnight a few hours ago, but found herself thirsty and had meant to get some water. Not wanting to disturb them, she tiptoed silently to the kitchen. She reached into the cabinet to retrieve a glass, and just before she turned on the tap, she heard her name.

Immediately, her senses sharpened to listen in. She knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but then, it was also rude to talk about someone behind their back, was it not? Straining, she listened to the hushed conversation.

“Do you think Bee is alright?” That was Rowan, she thought. The twins’ voices were hard to tell apart sometimes, especially when so low.

A sigh. “She seems to struggle lately, but she won’t tell us anything. I worry for her, I will admit.” Logan, she was sure.

“She really wants to go to the beach. She keeps suggesting it. Are you sure we can’t take that risk?”

“No,” Logan said curtly.

“Leg-“ Rowan started, but Logan harshly interrupted him.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he hissed. There was a short silence, and then Dan started talking again, but it was not in a language Bee recognised. She touched her hand to her necklace, and it felt warm. Fearing discovery, she decided she’d heard enough and tiptoed back to her bedroom. She was just in the door when the one next to hers opened, and she found herself looking at Rowan with a startled expression. He stared back with wide eyes, scanning her face as if trying to read her thoughts. She was pretty sure she was an open book, and afraid of the consequences. Minutes seemed to pass, though in reality it was probably only a second.

Eventually, though, he gave her a small nod. He turned back to the room and said, “Tea for everyone, then?”

By the time he looked back, Bee had already gone, the door closing behind her without so much as a whisper.

* * *

She lied in bed, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. Her mind wouldn’t stop turning. What had they been talking about? She could tell there was a serious matter at hand, but in all eight years of knowing them, they had never brought it up.

Perhaps selfishly, this hurt her. Selfish, because she knew she wasn’t entitled to anyone’s secrets, and rationally she knew this didn’t mean they didn’t consider themselves her friends. But they knew everything about _her,_ so why didn’t they trust her with the same?

 _Except they don’t know everything about you, do they?_ A nasty voice in her head supplied.

 _Stop it_ , she told herself firmly. They would only worry if they did. She had good reason not to tell them. With a deep sigh, she turned on her side, pulling the covers over her shoulders. It was true that she had mentioned going to the beach regularly. She’d always loved it, it gave her a sense of both longing and coming home. She used to stare out to the horizon for hours, mind blank, just looking at the sea’s wild beauty, while the wind played with her hair, gentle as a lover. Her aunt lived in Brighton, and as such she was often found at the beach when growing up. Now in Oxford, there was no sea nearby, an argument used often by her friends when she suggested going. _It’s too far away, let’s find something closer,_ or, _sorry love, I promised my friend he could borrow my car this weekend – perhaps some other time?_ She never questioned it, not really, so her comment today about them being scared was more of a joke. Turned out, it wasn’t really, not to them. But _why_?

A soft knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” she called softly. She hoped it wasn’t Rowan, and hoped that he hadn’t told the others she’d overheard their conversation.

No such luck. The door opened and Rowan’s head turned around the corner. “Hey, you still up?” His voice was soft, careful. Bee sat up and gestured for Rowan to come in.

He closed the door behind him and sat down on the edge of her bed, giving her a weak smile. “How much did you hear?” he asked. Straight to the point then. She considers him, wondering if she should give the full answer. She was glad it was dark, for his grey eyes had the same effect on her as Logan’s, and she did not want to feel overwhelmed like that right now.

Decision made, she says: “Just that you guys can’t go to the sea for some reason.” She doesn’t continue, letting the question hang in the air. Rowan would understand, and he did.

He seemed relieved at her answer, shoulders sagging just a little bit, Bee noted with interest. Rowan sighed, stretching his legs before him. “Yeah. We can’t.” He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, mulling over the answer to give her. “It’s… complicated?” he offers, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

Bee raised an eyebrow. “I figured as much.”

Rowan breathed out a laugh. “Dan, Logan and I… Well, we’ve known each other almost all our lives, right? We’ve been through a lot together. Our parents being one of them. They were – family friends. And we lost them to the sea.”

Bee’s eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” They had never told her much about their families, and she always figured it was a sensitive subject.

Rowan stayed silent, focused on that loose thread. For a minute, they stayed that way. In comfortable silence, her focused on him, him focused on his jeans. But Bee never was a patient person.

“That’s not all, is it?” she hedges. Rowan glanced up at her, and then out the window. The moon was nearly full tonight, blurry through the rain spattered glass.

“No,” he said. “But that is all I can tell you, now. It is not just my story to tell, and I shan’t betray their trust like that. Especially Logan’s. It’s different for him, and he needs to tell you in his own time.” He turned to face her. “Please don’t think we haven’t told you out of mistrust, or something like that.” Bee went to protest, but he cut her off, “you can’t fool me, Bee. I know it’s easy to fall to insecurity like that, whether you think it’s realistic or not. So believe me, we _want_ to tell you. It’s just never been the right time, OK?”

She nodded meekly. “Do you think Logan will ever be ready?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, “but I hope so.”

* * *

With a gasp, Bee sat right up in bed. Her heart was in her throat, beating with such intensity it took minutes, if not hours to calm down. She felt the ghost of hands around her neck, warm breath in her ear. Desperately she felt for her necklace, and sagged in relief when she found it, the pendant neatly hanging between her collar bones as always.

“Fuck,” she whispered, dragging in gulps of air. Shakily, she got up and made her way to the bathroom, where she splashed some water on her face. _Fuck_ , she thought again. The water was freezing. Walking back to her bedroom, she noted the clock. It was just past four in the morning. She sighed. There was no way she could go back to sleep now.

Deciding she could do with a cup of tea, she exited the bathroom, put on her robe, and walked to the kitchen. The light was on, and Logan was perched on the counter, one leg pulled up and bent at the knee, the other dangling down. A mug of tea was steaming next to his bare foot, and he was reading a battered paperback, folded so only one side was showing. He looked up when she entered. “Can’t sleep either?” She shook her head. “The kettle is still hot, if you fancy a cuppa.” She nodded in relief, and he gave her a smile and dropped off the counter, preparing a mug for her. “Honey?”

“Yes please. Thank you. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

He raised the book for her to see. It was _1984_. “Don’t sleep much these days, and this book is riveting. Haven’t read it in what must be a hundred years, thought I’d refresh my memory.”

“The book isn’t even a hundred years old.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, not interested in the answer. He pushed her mug over to her on the counter, and she grabbed it gratefully, wrapping her fingers around the warm ceramic. Inhaling the sweet scent of tea, milk and honey, she felt her worries and fears disappear. Yes, a cup of tea was _exactly_ what she needed.

Logan jumped back up on the counter, this time tucking his legs beneath him. Bee eyed the motion, curiously.

“You know,” she said, “according to the internet, not being able to sit properly is ‘gay culture’.” _Very subtle, Bee_ , she chided herself. Logan raised an eyebrow at her.

“Is it?”

She nodded. “Weird places and weird positions.”

“Huh,” he said, though mirth danced in his eyes. “Interesting.”

Bee pushed on, stubbornly deciding she’d started this conversation, and she would damn well continue it. “I’m your friend, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you know you could tell me anything?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him expectantly. He simply looked back, an amused smile on his lips. Bee didn’t think he would be the one to give up, so she huffed and said, “You know what I’m asking.”

“You’re asking if I’m gay because I sit in what you consider to be odd positions. Don’t you think that, besides it being a very quick conclusion to draw, you’re also invading my privacy by asking me rather than wait for me to tell you when I’m ready?”

She blushed and looked down. It was true, and she should’ve considered that, especially since she knew what it’s like to come out of the closet. Her impatience had once again gotten the better of her. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry.” She picked at the tag on her teabag. “I just… Don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets from me, you know? You’re my friend, after all.”

“This isn’t about me sitting on the counter, is it?” She looked up and was once again struck by those eyes. She hated that she didn’t know what they meant.

“I also found you on top of the fridge once,” she pointed out. He smiled, shaking his head slightly. “But no, it’s not just your positions. I started wondering about it when I found you and Dan on the couch, the other day.” The admission felt good to let go.

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Bee shuffled on her feet, feeling awkward. “You know… The morning after Halloween, I came in and you were both in the living room and,” Logan bit his lip, cutting off a snort, and she gestured up and down, “ _in flagrante delicto_ , and then you ran to your bedroom.” She was blushing furiously now. She was starting to think she had it very, very wrong.

This time, Logan laughed outright.

“Oh, fuck,” Bee muttered. She laid her arms on the counter and dropped her head between them. Oh, this was mortifying. _Kill me now._

“Bee,” Logan said, his voice trembling, trying to restrain his laughter. “Bee, come on, it’s not that bad.”

“No, it really, really is, and I’d like to die now,” she moaned. “Have mercy on me.”

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. “It was a perfectly natural conclusion to draw. However, me and Dan had simply been talking too late into the night in our pyjamas – or in his case, with no trousers, as apparently they were uncomfortable – and fell asleep that way. We’re childhood friends, basically brothers. It’s normal.”

She slapped his hand away. “I’d still like for you to just put an end to my life, if you don’t mind.” But she righted herself anyway, and took a deep breath in an attempt to regain her dignity.

“I will do no such thing,” Logan said, affronted. She smiled.

“You talk in a very old fashioned kind of way, sometimes,” she observed. He just shrugged, not offering an explanation. They both returned to their mugs of tea, Logan grabbing his and settling next to Bee, sides pressed together.

“There’s more bothering you, isn’t there?” Logan asked.

“Yes,” Bee admitted. “But after that chastising you just gave me, I think I will wait a bit.”

He smiled at her, eyes warm. “Thank you.”

She nudged his shoulder softly. “Any time, dear friend.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to be that person that regularly updates once a week.  
> Oh well.

“Right,” Bee said, “let’s do this.”

It was Saturday, and Bee found herself with Logan in a nearby park, dressed in sports leggings and sweatshirts. She took a fighting stance, her feet apart, back straight and elbows tucked in. As an apology for her behaviour yesterday, she’d asked him for another session.

He didn’t ask if she was ready. He started stepping sideways, with her mirroring his movements, staring intently at his face in search for any signs that he would attack. They circled like this for a while, feet carefully placed on the soft grass as they sized up their opponent.

Deciding to make the first move, she let out a growl and jumped towards Logan, hand balled in a fist and aimed for his stomach. He deflected her easily, using the opening in her defence by hitting her in the side with the open palm of his hand. She grunted.

“Never make it obvious when you’re going to attack,” Logan advised her. “By making a noise, you’re warning me.”

Rookie mistake, wouldn’t happen again.

This time, Logan stepped forward, twisting his body to avoid her incoming punch and using the momentum to grab her wrist and throw her on the ground.

The contact with the ground knocked the breath out of her. Winded, she took a moment to regain her bearings. Logan stood over her, smirking. _Oh, it’s on._

And so it went. Punching, jabbing and tackling, they fought. While it was clear that Logan had the superior skill, Bee managed to get a few hits in and even kicked him to the ground once. She really was getting better, she thought proudly.

With one particularly well-aimed kick to the back of her knees, Bee went down flat on her back. Annoyed, she twisted and grabbed Logan’s ankles, pulling him down as well. Unfortunately, this meant he landed heavily on top of her.

“Oomph!” Bee puffed. She threw her arms around his back, rolling them over so she was on top, her arms locking his to his sides. Logan looked surprised, his eyes wide as he stared up at her. “Gotcha,” she smirked.

He quirked the corner of his mouth upwards. “Well done.”

A few strands of hair had come loose from Bee’s plait, curling downwards and caressing Logan’s cheeks. Bee wondered if it tickled.

“Bee.”

Her eyes shot up from where her hair touched skin to his eyes, her mouth suddenly dry. Logan was looking at her intently, his face carefully blank except for his eyes. And _god,_ his eyes, Bee thought. They were full of emotion, and yet Bee couldn’t read them, couldn’t even begin to discern what they were saying.

His breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of her lips. She parted them slightly, inhaling sharply. Their noses were almost touching. Flashes of that night, the one where she’d gotten drunk and tried to kiss Logan, came unbidden into her mind. She’d come so close, crowding him up against the wall, faces as close as they were now. He’d stopped her then, had told her softly _you’re drunk, Bee, let’s go inside_ and she’d nodded stupidly, disappointed but too afraid to continue what she had started.

Now she found herself in this position again. Except… Logan hadn’t pushed her away yet. She wasn’t drunk this time.

He stared up at her with hooded eyes. His woollen hat had slipped down his forehead a bit, nearly obscuring his dark eyebrows. The heat from where her chest pressed into his soaked through her jumper, warming her all over with the realisation. She moved her hand from where it was resting on the cold grass and lifted it to cup his cheek, trapping her own hair in between. The other gripped his bicep, feeling the firm muscles under it, and _god_ wasn’t that something, she thought.

Their lips brushed. She didn’t know who had moved, but someone had to have had to, because _their lips were touching_ and was this what it was like to kiss Logan? It felt like coming home, like a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning. The shy caress of lips, short gusts of hot air leaving her tingling, both wanting more but neither daring to take it. But god, did she want more. She was burning with it, set alight with want until she was blazing.

A bell dinged, sounds of a bicycle on gravel and an angry “Oi, watch it!”.

Sluggishly Bee opened eyes she hadn’t known she had closed. Sounds from their surroundings rushed back in, overwhelming her for a second. She looked down at Logan, who blinked back. Clearing her throat, Bee rolled off him and reached for the bag they had brought with them. She took longer than necessary digging out the water bottle, taking the time to collect herself again. She couldn’t _believe_ that just happened. What had she been thinking, kissing Logan like that? Eight years of friendship, out the window. While her heart ached and longed for more, rationally she knew it was best that the bike had interrupted them when it did. She couldn’t bear to lose her friend.

She could hear Logan get to his feet behind her. “Bee?” he said, carefully. She grabbed the water bottle and turned around, pasting on a wide smile.

“Yeah!” She cringed internally. That had come out louder than intended. “Yeah,” she said again, at a normal volume this time. She took a sip to hide her red face.

Logan frowned at her. “Bee, I think we should —”

“Oh wow, would you look at the time,” she interrupted him hastily. “I promised Darla I’d help her with something, we should really go so I can change.” She nodded firmly, as if to emphasize her statement.

Logan looked at her, eyes searching her face. She looked away, taking another sip of the water bottle. Eventually he sighed. “Alright, let’s go then.”

They gathered their stuff and walked back home in uncomfortable silence. Bee tried really hard not to look at Logan’s face. She didn’t dare speculate.

When they arrived at the flat, Bee walked straight for her room. Before she could slip inside, however, the sound of her name stopped her. She hesitated, turning her head back slightly, her hand resting on the doorframe.

There was a moment’s silence. Then, “You fought well today.” Logan sounded disappointed, as if that hadn’t been what he wanted to say.

Bee gave a curt nod in acknowledgement, and closed the door behind her.

* * *

At one minute to eleven, she walked into the café. Darla took one look at her face and said, “Oh darling, you need a _drink_!”

Bee gave her a weak smile. “Is it that obvious?” She waved her manager off and disappeared into the staff room. Tying her apron around her waist, she sighed. Man, this was a mess. She still couldn’t believe herself.

“What happened,” Darla demanded as soon as she took her place behind the till. Bee debated whether she should tell her. Darla wasn’t just her manager, she was a good friend and Bee considered her almost family. But this just seemed to personal.

“I’m fine, just some personal things I need to sort out,” she settled on.

“Well, if you need a listening ear… Or a drinking buddy, either one.” Darla winked at her. Bee wouldn’t mind a night out, she didn’t think. And hey, it was a Saturday.

“I’ll take you up on the second one,” she promised.

With this prospect in mind, the day seemed to fly by. At two o’clock, Isa came in to relieve Darla from her shift, and received an invite as well.

Finn didn’t show up today, just like he hadn’t any other day since that first time, to Bee’s disappointment. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him, and was determined to ask him about it. Just a casual, _hey, do I know you from somewhere? Genuine question, not chatting you up or anything._

That would go down well.

Isa was kind enough not to comment on Bee’s obvious distractedness, instead keeping her mind occupied with inane chatter. Bee welcomed it. Before she knew it, all thoughts of blond guys, gold or platinum, were erased from her mind, at least for the time being. She found she actually quite enjoyed herself.

At six, she hung up her apron and went home to change. Girl’s night, so she wanted to pamper herself in preparation. She took a steaming hot shower in which she exfoliated and shaved, and after drying her hair took out her curler. She could practically hear Logan commenting on how unnecessary it seemed to curl hair that was already curly. _They’re a different kind of curl,_ Bee would explain, exasperated. She smiled at the memory.

At half past seven, she left her room wearing black jeans, a fringed leather jacket and platform boots. She bumped into Dan, who had just returned from his job at the Ashmolean Museum, the swot.

He did a double take at her. “You’re going out?”

She swung her bag over her shoulder. “Yep, just going for some drinks with the girls from work.”

“Well, you look good.”

“Thanks!” She did a little twirl to show off the fringe. “I’m channelling my inner Stevie Nicks.”

Dan sighed dreamily. “What a woman, that is.”

“Indeed she is,” Bee agreed. She kissed Dan on the cheek and left through the door.

* * *

An hour later, she was sat at a table at the Jolly Farmers, staring into her second drink. Isabela and Darla were chatting animatedly, but Bee had tuned them out some time ago and was now lost in thought. In hindsight, she wasn’t sure if the alcohol was really such a good idea, because it made her thoughts only more confusing and jumbled. She needed to get her head out of her arse, she knew that, but she had to admit she’d been attracted to Logan for much too long a time now. As earlier today had proven, this wasn’t exactly healthy for their friendship, and she really ought to stop.

Problem was, she had no idea how. The drunken almost-kiss from a year ago was more serious than she had pretended, but she had ignored it for too long, not wanting to analyse it. But now, with her emotions running high once again, she couldn’t control it anymore.

Yet, could anyone blame her? Just _look_ at him. Not just physically – though, yes, he was admittedly very attractive, with his blonde hair and intense eyes, full lips, sharp cheekbones… anyway – but, more importantly, he was incredibly kind, and patient. He put up with Bee, which was no small feat. She knew she was an intense person, _too much_ as several of her exes had described her, and high maintenance. But Logan didn’t seem to mind, did he? Where Bee pushed, he simply went with the movement yet never gave. He always bounced back and was always around. When she was upset, he was always there as the voice of reason, giving advice when she wanted it or simply listening when she needed it. He never judged.

“So what’s got your knickers in a twist?” Darla’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. She looked up and saw Darla looking at her expectantly. Isabela took a sip of her drink, trying and failing to not seem interested as well.

Bee sighed. Well, it’s not like they didn’t deserve to know the reason for her foul mood. Besides, they were friends. Maybe they could give her advice.

“You know…” She waved a hand vaguely. “Boy stuff. I…” She stopped for a moment, thinking it through. “Well, I think I may have feelings for a friend, and I don’t want to, and it’s all very messy. We’re _friends,_ ” she emphasised.

“Those are the best kind of partners,” Darla said. Bee supposed that was true. Still, she shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t want to risk our friendship, you know?”

Isabela made a humming sound. “I agree. I slept with a friend once. We decided it was just this one time, just friends helping out friends when drunk and feeling lonely. Then after a few weeks, he suddenly broke off contact, saying it was too awkward for him. Wasn’t worth our friendship, in hindsight. He wasn’t even that good.” She wrinkled her nose. “I had to fake my orgasm.”

Bee snorted. “Honestly, straight guys are the worst. All they care about is their own pleasure.”

“Right!” Isabela nodded enthusiastically. “Never doing guys again. Penises are the worst.”

Darla raised her glass in a toast. “Hear hear!” Bee and Isabela tapped their glasses to hers and took a drink. “That’s why I got rid of mine,” Darla added slyly.

Isabela choked, liquid coming out of her nose. Bee threw her head back and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, English is not my native language! I have been told I sometimes use Dutch expressions in English, so if something doesn't make sense, apologies lol


End file.
